


Damaged Goods

by ohposedae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: But he's funny, M/M, and delusional, but he only does that to protect himself, doyoung only said like three words, jung jaehyun is stupid, lee taeyong is a delinquent, or not really, they live in some bad neighborhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohposedae/pseuds/ohposedae
Summary: Taeyong’s actually never fond of fighting―that’s what he would be telling everyone, only to be laughed after. Because fighting means violence, and violence means someone would get hurt. When someone swings their fists toward you, you had nothing to do except to counter―and Taeyong does it twice harder. He doesn’t want to be the one getting hurt.Just like that, his name is known as the strongest dude in his school―and even in the neighborhood.And Jaehyun. He probably busy rolling kimbabs at the moment.





	Damaged Goods

“― _yong_ ,”

Taeyong opens his eyes at the mention of his name. He squints, blinking his eyes several times to adapt with the light, before gazing up at the source of the voice.

“Taeyong!”

It’s none other than Kim Doyoung, the tall lanky boy who sits in front of him―who just dyed his hair light purple, _fucking purple_. Doyoung is his only classmate who care _and dare_ to talk with him, if he may add.

Taeyong’s got the reputation. He’s not the best son every parents want, he’s the worst. He may look small and easy from his appearance, but he’s total carnivore inside. Taeyong’s actually never fond of fighting―that’s what he would be telling everyone, only to be laughed after. Because fighting means violence, and violence means _someone_ would get hurt. When someone swings their fists toward you, you had nothing to do except to counter―and Taeyong does it twice harder. _He doesn’t want to be the one getting hurt_.

Just like that, his name is known as the strongest dude in his school―and even in the neighborhood.

So there are only two type of person who talk with him. Those annoying bastards who always wants him to use his fists for something unimportant, and Kim Doyoung.

Taeyong groans, reluctantly lifting his head from his table, straightening his back onto his chair. His neck hurts from bad napping position―for square 4 hours or so, but he’s used to it anyway. “I’m awake,” He mumbles while stretching his arms.

“Good,” Doyoung says, shrugging his shoulder in dislike. “Because I need to go home too, you know? Please stop sleeping in classes, dude. I’m not your personal alarm―” His sentence left hanging―

―because Taeyong ignores him, quickly picks his backpack up and walks away. As much as he respect Kim Doyoung’s carefree personality, he really doesn’t need more batch of useless lecture, thank you very much.

When Taeyong hears an annoyed “Fuck you, Lee Taeyong!” from the same voice, he laughs inwardly.

 

 

 

Taeyong regrets it seven minutes later when out of nowhere, a punch is landed straight on his gut. It’s strong, but thankfuly not strong enough to make him collapse. He should have act close with Doyoung and maybe walk home with him. His enemies would never attack him when he’s not alone.

He staggers back a few steps, grunting. His reply though, a swift kick on stomach, enough to send his opponent to the ground.

It’s a familiar face. One of those people who keep disturbing his sleep at night, looking for a certain irresponsible adult who never home. He’s lucky this man is the smallest out of them.

The color of his face drains out when realisation hits him. “I told you not to come to school!” Taeyong snaps, backing away several steps. _Fuck_ , he will never get away with this. The man’s friends will kill him for sure.

The man seems to notice, ugly smirk blooming on his lips as he stands up. “Ouch, what have you done to me, Lee Taeyong-ssi,”

_This bastard did it deliberately!_ Taeyong grits his teeth, moving his legs to turn away.

But the man is fast to pull Taeyong’s backpack, turning him over before landing a fist on his jaw. The next punch comes before Taeyong can register, sending him toppled over the ground.

The man is fast to loom over him, grabbing his collar. But before he can do further, Taeyong does the only thing on his mind. _It’s now or never._

He kicks his crotch.

While the man crying over his abused manhood, Taeyong use his time to stands up and run.

 

 

 

But Taeyong’s nightmare comes faster than the night. He already know what will happen to him when he spots a group of big and bulky man in front of his house. The man who attacked him earlier is also there, of course.

The leader of those men is already staring at him in distaste. “I heard you hurt one of my man, kid,”

Taeyong takes a deep breath.

“I thought we’ve come to deal. But it seems like you broke it,”

There is only one thing on Taeyong’s mind at the moment. He really need to befriend Kim Doyoung.

 

 

 

Jaehyun’s late afternoon only consist of two things. He’s either rolling _kimbab_ s, or watching some sappy family dramas your grandmother will forget her meals for. He might be the only male teenager who will be able to explain the plot and characters of those dramas so fluently, without even skipping a second to take a breath― _okay_ , that’s too much.

He always think that maybe, in another universe, he could be an actor. He has mirror in his room, and he know he is handsome. Even more handsome than some actors in those dramas. He’s tall, and pretty well built by― _quotation marks_ ―nature. If he go to Seoul and stand in front of Sidus HQ building he is sure some of their agent will scout him, making him an actor. He will be rich. He doesn’t need to roll _kimbab_ s or watching sappy family dramas anymore―

Until a rough and calloused palm landed on the back of his head in a hard slap.

“If you’re gonna say that you’re more handsome than Yoo Seungho or Nam Joohyuk you better shut your mouth and make your ass useful,” A man in his fifty, the owner of the place he’s currently at―a _ramyun_ shop where Jaehyun work―mutters as he grabs Jaehyun’s head and tilting it toward the corner of the shop where a couple of highschool girls just came and seated themselves at.

Jaehyun’s grunts. _What a way to destroy someone’s dream_. “Please treat me more humane, _samchon_ ,”

“Oh, I will. When you finally decide to be a good employee,”

_God, those girls again_. The boy sighs, taking a notebook from his chest pocket before walking in long strides toward the table. “Good afternoon. What’re y’all gonna order,”

“Can I order _oppa_ to be my boyfriend?” One of the girl says cutely, fluttering her eyelashes while staring straight at Jaehyun’s eyes. Her bright orange hair long and wavy, face covered by layers of make up, she is the one keep hitting on him since months ago. She’s pretty cute, if he’s gonna be honest, but too flirty. Cheesy. _Ew_. The other girls giggling at their exchange.

The smile on Jaehyun’s lips is wry. And dry. _What a shitty pick-up line._ He’s seen that in cheap dramas too many times. “ _Oppa_ ain’t in the menu. Choose another,”

“ _Oppa_ ’s heart then?”

“Neither is _oppa_ ’s heart,”

A pout forming on her lipstick covered lips. “Then what can I have from _oppa_?”

“ _Kimbab_. _Ramyun_.”

She’s pouting even more, starting to get irritated, before she snorts and looks away.

_Fucking finally._

“Four _ramyun_ and two _kimbab_ s then, _oppa_ ,” The other girl, black hair swiped up in a messy bun―Jaehyun had noted her as the most _normal_ out of the four―answers in place of her friends.

And now since he can’t watch that sappy family drama, he will be rolling _kimbab_ s.

To say that Jaehyun dislike his life, is an understatement. He _extremely hate_ his life.

 

 

 

Later at the evening, Jaehyun had just came back from delivering seven bowls of _ramyun_ to an annoying auntie five blocks down (at times like this Jaehyun just want to born earlier and kill the guy who make the phrase ‘customer is the king’), when his dark eyes spot a boy crouching in front of the shop.

He looks like he just ran five miles, his dark hair messy, skin glistening with sweat, gasping with air as he clutches on his abdomen. Jaehyun notices the cut on the corner of the boy’s lips, the dirts all over his uniform. He also doesn’t miss the way the boy winces when he grasps on his stomach too hard. When he tries to walk, he’s limping, growls of pain can vaguely be heard.

Jaehyun’s rows raised in question. _Student fight?_

Their eyes meet each other for some miliseconds, and suddenly Jaehyun can’t breath. Those eyes are round, with feline-ish tilt at the end, but sharp at the same time. It’s the hollowness, the lack of passion and vibrancy from those brown orbs, that get Jaehyun curious. What happened? What had happened to him in the past to get him like that?

There is something alluring from the boy, Jaehyun thinks, though he can’t really point it out.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?) Jaehyun is forced to leave his serial thoughts before he can dig deeper into those eyes, when the owner calls him to wash some fucking veggies.

He grunts in annoyance, turning over and lazily walks toward the voice. “Yea, old man. I’m coming,”

 

 

 

So when he finds the same face, the same uniform, much more bruised and wrecked face and body laying soundless on the half-closed sliding door of the _ramyun_ shop, Jaehyun is more than shocked.

“What the real f―” He quickly puts the chairs he currently holding away, and squats beside the boy. “Hey,” He calls, shaking the boy on his shoulder.

Nothing.

He shakes the body harder. “Hey, wake up!”

The boy’s limp body slowly slides down over the door, until he totally laying on the cold tiles.

Jaehyun groans, hands ruffling his own hair harshly. “Fuck, what should I do,”

 

 

 

Taeyong wakes up in a foreign dim room. It’s small, full of stacks of boxes and two big fridges. He’s laying on a ratty brown couch, a thin black blanket over his body. He tries to sit up, but his body fails him as a jolt of hurt spreading all over by the simple action. He groans, throwing his body back to the couch.

He scambers to sit (and thankfuly succeeded) when hears a click of the door knob. A boy who looks his age―dark brown hair falls messily almost covering his eyes―forcefully push the broken door open. Their eyes meet, and Taeyong feels the familiarity of the darkest brown orbs.

His brows furrowed. _Do I know him?_

A simple “Oh,” escapes the boy’s lips. He takes what seemed to be relieved sighs. “finally,” he mumbles while trying to open the door wider. “ _Samchon_ , he’s awake!”

The boy walks toward one of the fridges, opening it before taking a bottle of mineral water. “You fell asleep―or fainted, I don’t know, whatever―outside last night.” He says, voice low and husky (Taeyong secretly envies him for it). “I don’t want to deal with corpse so I decided to take you―Ow! What’s that for?!” The boy yelps childishly when a hard slap landed on the back of his head.

A man―shorter than the boy but much more um... meaty?―standing on the doorstep, shooting annoyed glare to the boy. “Be nice. Go prepare something for him,”

The boy tsks, putting the water on the table in front of Taeyong before walking off.

“How’s your wounds? Does it still hurt?” The man asks, leaning his side on the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Taeyong clears his throat. “U-Uh, i-it’s still hurt but I’ll manage,”

“Your clothes were dirty, so Woojae changed you into some of his spare clothes,”

Only then does Taeyong realize that he’s no longer in his dirty uniform. Instead, he’s clad in a pair of clean white hoodie and black sweatpants―both a little too big for him. _Woojae_ _must be the guy from earlier_ , he thinks.

“I’m sorry the place is very cramped,”

“No, it’s okay. I’m― Thank you so much,”

The man smiles. “Thank Woojae. He’s the one who lowkey saved you,”

 

 

 

It’s about ten minutes later when the boy―Woojae? What a weird name―comes in with a tray in hands. The smell of newly cooked _ramyun_ enters Taeyong’s nose, and as cliche as it sounds, his belly suddenly grumbles in hunger. Ah, how long has it been since the last time he eat real food?

“Yo,” Woojae greets, placing a bowl of―as expected― _ramyun_ on the table, along with two plates of _kimbab_ ―one for Taeyong, and another one for himself. “Here, eat,” He offers the chopsticks and spoon to Taeyong, before taking another chopsticks for himself.

Taeyong mutters a soft thanks before chugging on his _ramyun_. He never eats this fast, both because of his hunger and _well, damn_ , the _ramyun_ is hella tasty. He unconsciously lets out a high pitched pleased hum. The time he realizes, Woojae is looking weirdly at him.

“It’s―” He clears his throat. “―tasty,”

Woojae―Taeyong still thinks that his name is weird―chuckles. “The old man’s _ramyun_ quite popular, y’know. Try the _kimbab_. I’m the _kimbab_ master,” Then he takes a big bite of his _kimbab_.

Taeyong eyes him with doubtful stare, taking one piece of the _kimbab_.  It’s delicious, nothing like the _kimbab_ at his school, but the raven haired boy is still staring at him with expecting eyes, and it’s not funny if he’s just admit it, “The _kimbab_ is just _kimbab_ ,” so he says instead.

He sputters. “Oh. Okay, then,” Woojae simply replies before continue to dig his own plate to hide his embarrassment.

After the little exchange, they eat in silence. It’s awkward, but Taeyong is a socially constipated teenager who can’t start a topic, and the only other human in the room seems to be more interested to his plate than him, so yeah, Taeyong just shrugs in nonchalant manner and continue eating. _While I still can savor this heavenly foods_.

 

 

 

“Um,” Taeyong starts, putting his eating utensils down, beside the already emptied bowl. “Woojae?”

The other is already done with his food minutes ago, now rummaging the fridge for something Taeyong doesn’t know. He stops a moment, head popping from the top of the fridge. “Just― It’s Jaehyun. Just call me that,”

See? _Woojae_ is too weird to be a name. “Uh, oh, sorry.”

Woojae―now Jaehyun―just waves it off. “It’s okay. What is it?”

“Where is it, actually? I don’t really remember...”

“The _ramyun_ shop near your school,”

_Ah. No wonder._ Taeyong knows the shop, he always passed by on the way from his house. It’s small, but he never saw the shop empty from customer. He hums in acknowledgement.

“So, Lee Taeyong,”

Taeyong’s eyes widen. _He knows my name? Does he know me?_

Jaehyun shrughs. “The nametag on your uniform say so,” He answers as if he can read the other’s thought. Taeyong sighs in relieve at this. “You got massive wounds, was it a fight with class mates? Or rival school or something like in dramas?”

Taeyong almost chokes on his _ramyun_. A soft giggle escapes his mouth.

“Huh. Why.”

The next moment, he’s laughing. It’s not a shy, awkward laugh people usually show to someone they barely know. It’s loud, harsh, Jaehyun starts to worry if he’s suddenly hyperventilating or even hurting himself. And just when he’s starting to control himself back, the puzzled look on Jaehyun’s face gets him bursting in an even louder laugh, head tipped back, as he holds on his stomach.

“Stop laughing!”

“Do you have ambition to be Wonbin? Or Kim Woobin?”

Jaehyun sputters, red spreading through his rather pale face, down to his neck.  “It was just a reference!”

Taeyong still laughing. _Ah, so he’s easy to be teased_.

The brunette huffs. “Whatever. I don’t care anyway,”

“S-Sorry. You should look at your face. It was just too funny,” Taeyong teases again when he finally can control his laugh. “And no, it wasn’t anything like that,”

“Well, as I said, I don’t really care,” Is what Jaehyun says, but Taeyong can’t unnotice the curious stare he shoot him with.

_This kid is interesting_. Well, maybe Taeyong doesn’t need to befriend Kim Doyoung afterall.

 


End file.
